Mend My Ways
by Shinigami29
Summary: [AU] One Seamus Harper has a sizeable sum of thrones on his head, and he can't risk anything. He can't be caught, he can't he recognised. Ever. But then he promises a perfect stranger that he would help his sister, and his world turns upside down...
1. Prologue

Prologue  
  
_Harper:  
5'7", Male Mudfoot.  
White blonde, blue eyes.  
2000 thrones._  
  
Thats what the sign said. That's what all the signs said now adays. Two thousands thrones is a lot of money, especially on Earth. People everywhere were looking for this 'Harper'... he would have to be more careful.  
  
He looked both ways before ripping down the sign, then continued on his path. The sign didn't say what he was being charged for, but he knew the list off by heart by now: escaping from two slave camps, taking valuables from one of the slave camps, stealing, causing havoc, selling illegal goods on the black market, selling legal goods on the black market, drug runner, domestic disturbance, murderer, kidnapping. There were a few more things, but he didn't want to think about it. The list was errored anyways.  
  
He didn't so much as escape as he did run away. It wasn't his fault that they didn't have good guards. And taking valuable goods? It deffinately wasn't his fault that they stuck a neural interface on his neck. Hurt like hell too, and took a good hour out of his day to make sure that it was clean.  
  
Stealing? Everyone stole stuff. If you didn't, you didn't survive. It was just another one of those _'unwritten laws of life'_. Causing havoc is the same as being a domestic disturbance, at least he thought so, because the qualifications for either one were pretty much exactly the same, just different degrees of disturbances. Selling goods on the black market? That was just to make a living. It's also how he became a drug runner, but that job hadn't lasted too long.  
  
Murderer? Well, he wouldn't put it exactly like that... it had been in his own self defence after all. And kidnapping? That's the elaborated word for saying that he let loose a bunch of slaves several dozen times.  
  
Needless to say, the price on his head raised every couple of weeks.  
  
He sighed, seeing another sign. A Nietzschean walked back, gun armed and ready, eyeing him with a sick grin. He was looking for a single excuse to whack him. He make sure not to give one, keeping his head low and his hood up, watching the ground silently as he walked by.  
  
His feet were wet from walking in the gutter. Then again, everyone's feet were wet. Anyone who dared walk on the broken down sidewalks risked not only getting grabbed at the ankles by desperate and dying people hidden in the shadows, but getting in the way of a Nietzscheans like the one he had just past. His wet feet padding along, stepping carefully over the odd body or two.  
  
He hated Earth.  
  
"Shay!" someone called. He looked up quickly, causing skin to pull around his data port. Later, he would have to check to make sure he hadn't torn the sink tissure surrounding it. "Over here!" His dark eyes peered around him, until he noticed a boy, just a little older then him, waving from the shadows of a nearby ally. "Come on!"  
  
He stayed rooted to the spot for a moment, looking this way and that for Nietzscheans or other patrollers, before crossing the street and slipping into darkness. He glared at the older boy, who grinned at him sheepishly.  
  
"What?" he hissed. "Is there something wrong Brendan?" The boy, who towered over him at 5'11, shook his head, shaggy brown hair whipping into his calm eyes.  
  
"Claire wants to see you again," Brendan said with a huge grin, pulling him along by the scruff of his worn and torn sweatshirt. He shrugged him off, and followed him at a slower pace, eyes shifting to and fro. "Come on Har-"  
  
"Don't," he glared at Brendan. The taller boy cringed. "Call me that. Ever. Got it?"  
  
"Right," Brendan forced a smile, and continued. "So... where are you going to take Claire tonight?"  
  
"No where," he muttered, falling instep beside the brunnette. "She can go fuck herself for all I care."  
  
"Shay," Brendan whined, stopping them both. The smaller boy glared up at him from under his hood, which Brendan removed to reveal dirty brownish hair falling into dark blue eyes. "I don't know why, but all the girls like-"  
  
"They like the fact that I don't want them around," 'Shay' said, as if it were a simple riddle being asked. "They think I'm playing hard-to-get. Don't question me about it, I overheard a group of them talking."  
  
"Right," Brendan chuckled. "But seriously, your the 'short, mysterious, and cute' guy they love for no apparent-"  
  
"I just explained to you why," he glared at the brunnette even more.  
  
"I said no APPARENT reason," Brendan pointed out. "Your reason still isn't apparent to me, and never will be bro. Anyways, they love you for no apparent reason what-so-ever, and having you around more often might make it easier for us all to get some chicks, lay back, and have a good time... deal?"  
  
"You've told them that I know how to read, haven't you," Shay said, looking at him blankly. Brendan just grinned.  
  
"Your the brains in the family," Brendan said cheerfully. "There's nothing to fear, because you are here... hey, that rhymed."  
  
"Your a poet, and you didn't even know it," 'Shay' said dryly. "How many times must I tell you Brendan? I'm not a revolutionist. I do what I do because I can, not because I'm trying to change the world. Earth is doomed; haven't you gotten that through your head yet?"  
  
"Cuz," Brendan said, grin never leaving his face. "Whether you do the revolution or not, it will happen, and all because you are a Hero in this day and age. It might not happen in our time, but some day soon, Earth shall be renewed to it's full glory. And it's all because you believed in yourself..."  
  
"There's no such things as heros Brendan," 'Shay' said coldly. He started walking again. "Your what? Two years older then me? Five? How can you act like such a kid all this time? Grow up and smell the pollution! We've. Got. Nothing."  
  
"Look at yourself Shay," Brendan said softly, his face solem. "You took nothing, and your fighting back with it. I don't care what you say, your a hero for that. One day, people are going to follow in your footsteps... they're not gods as they think they are. They are not unstoppable. We're just too scared to fight back..."  
  
"Then you lead the revolution!" 'Shay' yelled at him. Brendan went quiet, and for the rest of the short walk, neither spoke. When they got to their destination, the tunnels, they both entered, and were immediately surrounded by people.  
  
"Anything planned, Shay?" one little boy asked. He must of been nine years old...  
  
"Yeah, anything we can help with Seamus?" an older boy asked. Still too young, but older then the last. 'Shay' shook his head and plowed his way through the throng of kids, all looking to help. Whenever he worked, he worked alone. It was a rule... don't get anyone close to him in trouble, or else he would regret it later.  
  
Another rule of his: Don't get too close to anyone.  
  
"Hey," a girl said as soon as he sat down. She drapped herself in his lap, and leaned to whisper in his ear, giving him a view down her low cut shirt. Like most Earthers, she was bony, malnourished, had dirty hair, and both her teeth and skin were a sickly shade of yellow. "Hows it going... _Harper_?"  
  
Call him Shay, call him Seamus, hell, even call him Zelanzy and he won't get mad now a days. Call him Harper? He got pissed. Pissed and paranoid. Never a good combination.  
  
He pushed the girl off of his lap roughly, looking around the room as he stood up. The girl sat there, at his feet, cursing at him, but he didn't listen. As soon as he saw Brendan, chatting up some swooning girl, his blood started to boil.  
  
He marched up to his cousin, his own flesh and blood, and before anyone could blink an eye, punched him. The punch, unexpected, sent the elder teen to the ground. Time seem to slow down as Brendan touched his cheek gingerly, winched, and looked up at Seamus.  
  
"What the fuck was that for!" He yelled.  
  
"I told you NEVER to tell ANYONE who I was!" Seamus screamed at him. He didn't care who heard... it didn't really matter, Nietzscheans could be coming for him at any moment now. They could of been tracking him for a long time. "Do you wanna get me killed!! Do you wanna get everyone else here killed! They want my HEAD Brendan! They won't hesitate to take others as well!" With everyone looking at him, he turned and left. He hadn't even gotten a chance to get drunk...  
  
God, he _really_ hated Earth.


	2. Erskine

Erskine  
  
Seamus sat at his working table in his home. His 'ghetto', as he liked to call it, was the upper floor of a warehouse. The upper floor was branched off into four sections, and you couldn't get to his ghetto without walking through the other three, which he had trashed up pretty well to match the lower floors of the warehouse. Another thing was that most of the Earther's lived underground, so no one would suspect him living there...  
  
Skattered across his aged and rusty table were miniature bombs and specs of a small Nietzschean stronghold. He had half the bombs planted already, but the rest he would have to plant as he went along inside. Leaning back in his chair, he pulled a tool belt off of the floor, and started to fit different items onto it.  
  
All of the bombs... nanowelder he got off of the black market... couple of black bandanas... few medical supplies... small gun with a few attachments... remote control... cord and jacks... couple dozen shrillers...  
  
Chalk up another one on the list of crimes; defacing public property.  
  
After he finished with his belt, he stood up, dropping it on the table with all the papers and disks there. He stumbled over to his bed, (if you could tall it that), crashing onto the slightly softened wood, and rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, his eyes dead. He closed them slowly, praying to the Divine for a dreamless sleep...  
  
_'Shay!' a voice called in the darkness. 'Shay! Where are you!' As the darkness slowly bled into soft greys and reds, he looked around the room.  
  
Since when had the door handle been so high up?  
  
Since when did he have a squashed but cosy living room?  
  
Since when did he see red everywhere?  
  
'Shay,' the voice said again, as a tall lady entered the room. Her apperance was pinched and blurred, like a fading memory, but one thing was clear. Her soft blue eyes... it was like a becon of light in the darkness. 'Sh-shay?' She was frightened. 'Shay, what happened?'  
  
He looked at his hands, completely red, then at the floor where another hand entered his vision. He looked back up at the woman, tears coming to his eyes to wash away the red. He shook with fear.  
  
'I killed them mother,' he said, his voice small and shrill, yet calm. 'I killed them.'  
  
'Why..?' the lady asked, tears coming to her eyes as well. He never looked away from her blue eyes; they were the only things that wouldn't stay red. 'Why Seamus? They... they were- ARE, your cousins.'  
  
'I killed them,' he repeated, not stating a reason. His tears fell harder, but he could still only see an endless sea of red.  
  
He fell to the floor, and looked at the helpless faces of two mutilated bodies, and small, childish larvae smeared in blood ripped from their flesh, killed, and throw throughout the room. Their cold, dead eyes stared at him, hauntingly...  
  
'I killed them...'  
_  
Seamus sat straight up, covered in cold sweat. He looked outside the small window next to his bed, the dark sky telling him he had to go soon. He stood up out of bed, and pulled his sweatshirt and t-shirt off at the same time, revealing unheathly white skin; old and new scars alike criss-crossed over an orchestra of ribs and other bones. Tossing the clothes to the side, he digged around until he found his thin, long sleaved, black shirt that he wore whenever going out for a 'mission'. Unbuckling his pants, he let them slip to the floor before finding another pair of torn black sweat pants that itched. He sat down to tie up his only pair of useless black boots, trying not to think about his dream.  
  
Standing up, he walked over to his work table. Clipping the tool belt around his thin waist, he tighted it as much as he could, yet it still hung off of him. He turned to leave, but paused. Drumming his fingers against the table, thinkinging desperately for a few moments, his dead eyes racked over the room. Finally giving up his interal battle, he turned back and walked over to the window, kneeling down on his bed. He looked at the little 'shrine' he had there...  
  
The shrine was quite simple: a picture, face down on the windowsil, a burnt out candle, a knife crusted with dried blood, and a single, heart shaped locket.  
  
He took the picture, flipping it over in his hands, and glared at it. It was a black and white picture of the lady from his dreams, her eyes coloured in a light blue from an old crayon found on the street.  
  
"I said I was sorry, bitch," he hissed under his breath to the picture. "I said I was fucking sorry, so stop haunting me already!" He slammed the picture back down, and stormed out of his ghetto. Through one room, being careful of glass and trip wires and alarms that set off shrillers, through another that looked as if a tornado had gone through it as well, and through the last, whose doors hung on their hinges, and cabinets littered the floor.  
  
Just _another_ reminder why he hated Earth.  
  
He vaulted down the steps, three at a time, stopping short at the door. Taking deep calming breathes, he forced himself to forget all about the dream... all about everything...  
  
Already he could feel his vision turning red at the edges, but he ignored it as he slipped outside, just another shadow. As he walked, he tied one of the bandana's around his head searching not with his eyes, but his ears, what was around him.  
  
The stronghold was close by, maybe a little too close for comfort, but there was rumoured to be some valuable information in there. Information that enemies of the Drago-Katzov would want. Information that might get him off of this damn forsaken rock they lovingly called 'Earth'.  
  
As he passed by the allyway that Brendan had dragged almost a week ago, he faltered. Was it really worth it? Pushing everyone away to achieve what he wanted? Was it worth it to make even your family hate you? Was it really worth it to be strong?  
  
_'No,'_ Seamus answered in his mind. He continued to walk _'No, it's not worth shit, but that doesn't mean you can prevent it. Damn my father for being a loving bastard. Damn my mother for being such a saucy bitch. Damn Brendan for caring, and damn the rest of them for looking up to me! It's their own fault I'm like this.'  
_  
Just another block, and he would be at the enterance. There's a small hole in the fencing, but he's thin even by Earther standards, and should be able to pull himself through. Alls he would have to do after that is sneak his way to the center of the building, planting strategically placed bombs as he went, steal the information, and--  
  
"H-help..." a voice croaked in the darkness. Seamus jumped dispite himself, and disappeared into the shadows. He followed the noise of a sudden coughing fit to a patch of darkness not three feet infront of him. Another couple of steps and he could of been a goner. "Pl...please... help me..." more coughing. Seamus weighed the choices in his head.  
  
Help the stranger, get side-tracked, arrive at stronghold later then he already was, and get no reward. Don't help the stranger, arrive slightly earlier, and still get no reward.  
  
"Easy there," Seamus said reluctantly, walking forwards. He could dimly make out the outline of a boy lying there. "Are you hurt? I've got some bandages here..."  
  
"N-no..." the boy laughed. "No... but thank you..."  
  
"You ask for help, then don't want it?" Seamus glared at him. He started to leave, not bothering to waste his time.  
  
"Wait!" the boy called desperately, then started to cough again. Seamus sighed irritably, but waited for him to finish coughing. "C-could... could you help... me?"  
  
"I offered already, smart ass," Seamus hissed at him. "And you said no."  
  
"I'm too... too far," another small cough. "Too far gone... could you, kill me?" Seamus was shocked to say the least; that wasn't a new request, but he had never been asked personally to kill someone, let alone someone he didn't know. "And..."  
  
"A catch," Seamus muttered under his breathe. "I should of known..."  
  
"Could you, maybe... help my sister?" the boy asked. Seamus' dead eyes stared at him blankly. "She... she was captured... just recently, by the Nietzscheans... they took her to that building... right there, that one." Seamus almost couldn't breathe; innocent people where in that building? How could he blow it up now, without having to bite his lip for a few tense minutes before he pushed the button on his remote?  
  
"One damn slave isn't worth my time," Seamus snapped. "Your sister will die a short death, don't worry."  
  
"No!" The boy cried. Seamus could hear sobs that turned into even more violent coughs. "No... please, have mercy on her, she's precious to me... even if you only push her out onto the streets, just... please make sure that she doesn't die in the hands of the Nietzscheans?" Seamus sighed again.  
  
"If I promise will you shut up and die already?" Seamus asked him, only to recieve what could of been a laugh.  
  
"Yes," the boy said, tiredly. "Yes, I'm ready to die now... thank you."  
  
"Don't thank me yet," Seamus growled at him. Without laying a hand on the boy, he turned and left.  
  
"Erskine!" The boy called hoarshly. "Ask for Erskine!" Seamus ignored him, and continued on his way. The hole in the fencing was close, and as soon as he got to it, he slipped through. He molded to the shadows easily, as it all seemed to be tinted a dull red. He shook his head a little to clear it, but it didn't work. He continued, pausing whenever he thought he heard someone coming.  
  
Slipping into the stronghold itself was easy enough. Find an air vent, use his nanowelder to cut it off of the wall, pull himself in, and start to squirm as quietly as possible through the walls. Every once in awhile he got a view of a room below him, and once or twice he stopped to weld a bomb to the roof of the vent, but other then that his small journey was uneventfull. In fact, he doubted he would come across any trouble at all during this 'mission'.  
  
That's when he found out the bad news.  
  
He had come to the end of the vents, and the only way out was to make a hole and fall straight down. He started to do so, dispite what the circumstancesmight be. As soon as he banged on the hunk of metal, causing it to fall with a loud clatter, he realised what the secret information was.  
  
A small slave camp, right in their very own stronghold.  
  
Faces looked up at him, curious as to what he was doing, and why he was there. Some of the faces where hopeful, others worried. Many were scared. He turned around in the vents, easier then someone bigger would of done, and lowered himself through the makeshift hole until he was hanging by his fingertips. Just as he was going to let go and hope he didn't break his leg, hands grabbed onto his knees and shins, tugging lightly. With moment nervousness, he let go, only to be caught, and settled down on the ground.  
  
No one made a sound.  
  
"Who are you all?" Seamus found himself asking, as he pushed through the crowd. He needed to find the exit.  
  
"Lab specimens," one lonely voice said quietly. Seamus didn't look to see who it belonged to.  
  
"Let me go!!" a crying voice called out, distant, yet coming closer. Seamus followed to sound of footsteps. "Let! Me! Go!"  
  
"Stop fighting, kludge!" a rough voice responded, followed by the sharp sound of flesh-on-flesh. The crying continued, but no protests came. Seamus tried to break through the last little wall of people, but someone stopped him. He turned to glare at the person, who ended up being an old man.  
  
"If they see you," the old man muttered. "They'll either kill you, your add you as another specimen. Let them leave, then you can look at what you want, stranger." Seamus nodded, seeing the logic in this, and waited.  
  
The sound of a lock being forced open nearly deafened him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Something was shoved into the crowd of people, causing someone to push him backwards, and the crying became louder. When he opened his eyes, the lock was being forced closed again, and everything seemed to be redder...  
  
"It is safe now, stranger," the old man said. The crowd parted, surrounding him and the crying person who had been shoved into the cell. The person was collasped onto the floor, hugging themself tightly. "Speak."  
  
"What are you specimens for?" Seamus barked, eyes narrowing at the people around him.  
  
"Sceince project they want to perfect," the old man answered. "Also, a few of us are lost each week as they try something else, but no one has returned alive to figure out what."  
  
"Why won't they speak for themselves?" Seamus barked out again. The old man smiled a yellow, toothy smile.  
  
"You drop down from the sky, like a god," the old man said lightly. "Or, more approprietly, a messenger sent by the Divine. They dare not speak, in fear that they shall anger you, and that you will not let them out."  
  
"And you know this, how?" Seamus glared at him.  
  
"It has happened several times before," the old man explained. "Though you are the first to drop from the sky like you did. Will you leave without us, or set us free?" For the second time that night, Seamus weighed his choices.  
  
Save them, have his presence known, most likely not get to set off his bombs, and the possibility of getting caught again. Don't save them, don't get to set off bombs anyways, and risk getting caught as he tries to steal the information.  
  
"Does anyone know if they have this information written down?" Seamus asked, looking around him. No one answered. "Come on... has anyone been close enough to see if they have any information on discs, flexis, or paper!"  
  
"N-no..." the voice startled him somewhat. He looked down at the crying figure, who inturn looked up at him. It was a girl, and her merky, hazel eyes made a small impression on him before sinking into redness as well. "I... I was j-just there... they have n-no... no discs."  
  
"Okay," Seamus sighed. No solid information, so he could risk setting them free. "Thanks. Now..." he turned back to the old man. "I'll let you all out of here, but you guys have to help me back into the vents, not leave this cell for awhile, and then get out of here as soon as possible, okay?" The old man nodded eagerly, and smiled. Seamus, muttering curses under his breathe, pushed his way over to the barred door, and using his nanowelder once again, started to cut them a way out.  
  
Once he was done, he removed all the bandages, bandanas and shrillers that he had on his tool belt, placing them on the ground.  
  
"Use these wisely," he grunted, as he moved back towards the hole.  
  
"Thank you," someone said. It was followed by another, and another, and soon the cell was filled with a soft hum of 'thank you's. Seamus ignored them as he instructed a few tall, study men to stand underneath the hole and help him to stand on their shoulders. Once balanced, he reached as high as he could, the murmur of 'thank you' still there, and calculated that he was about two feet too short. Sucking in a deep, shuddering breathe, he jumped...  
  
And grabbed onto the edge of the makeshift hole. He panted for a moment, before he dragged himself up. It took him awhile, but he made it, and laid there for another moment, just thinking.  
  
"Stranger!" the voice of the old man called around the murmurs. Seamus turned slowly, and looked down at them all. "How ever can we thank you?" Seamus was about to tell them to screw off and live, when he remembered.  
  
"Anyone here Erskine?" he asked. The murmuring grew more incoherent, 'Erskine' coming to the teen's ears every once in awhile.  
  
"Here..." a small voice said. The voice was trapped beneath the crowd, but they parted as much as they could, to show the crying girl who had told him that there was no written information. "I'm Erskine..."  
  
"Bring her up here," Seamus sighed out. It was only moments before the girl was being hoisted into the air, and Seamus reached down to grab her hand. She looked up at him fearfully, but let him pull her up into the vents, helping out as soon as she could.  
  
Backed up now, he studied her red washed face. It was thin and worn, but not as much as many others as he had seen, suggesting that she got a little more food a little more often. Her hair was as dirty as anyone elses, looking only slightly tiddier in the braid it was twisted into. Her eyes were rimmed with dark lashes, and glistened with tiny crystal tears that made pathes in the grim on her face.  
  
"Follow me," Seamus told her, as he turned around again. "And keep quiet." The girl seemed all too happy to do so, and several minutes later, when Seamus fell a little too loudly out of the vents, she followed. Seamus looked around tiredly as he stood up with her, and led her back through a maze of shadows. A few moments later though, the entire compound was flooded with lights. "Shit!"  
  
He ran. He couldn't tell if 'Erskine' were following him, and he didn't really care, he just ran as fast as he could. Soon enough, they came up to the hole in the fence: hadn't it been farther away?  
  
"Go," he hissed, turning around. The girl was still there. Hesitantly, she looked from him to the hole. The sound of a gun shot made her decision, and she pulled herself through easily, and waited for him. "Run!"  
  
"You, kludge! Stop!" The girl shot him an uneasy look, but ran, then Seamus turned. Standing about thirty feet away from him were three Nietzscheans, all of them carrying gause guns. "You let out our slaves, didn't you?" Seamus just grinned at them.  
  
He wished he could see the whites of their eyes, or at least read the panic in them. A sea of red enveloped him warmly, and he let it. It was like a warm embrace after a cold winter night...  
  
When he opened his eyes, he realised that he must of blacked out. Groaning, he closed his eyes again and tried to remember what happened. It all came to a blank.  
  
_'No matter,'_ he said to himself. _'I'll just dream about it sooner or later, like I do all the other times I black out...'  
_  
He listened carefully to everything around him. By his guesses, he was lying on his back in an ally somewhere, but someone or something was constantly moving. He groaned again as he tried to move, his entire body starting to ache.  
  
"That's not a good idea," a small voice said; it was familiar. "You got burned pretty badly."  
  
"Burned?" Seamus muttered, opening his eyes again. "How... how did I get burned?"  
  
"The fires," there, from the corner of his eye. She was sitting in semi-darkness, sewing up his shirt. Wait, his shirt?  
  
"What fires?" Seamus asked, frowning slightly. His back spased again as he moved slightly, but the dim chill of the cold ground started to bite at the back of his mind.  
  
"The fires exploded out of no where," 'Erskine' said as an answer. "They were really pretty, but everyone was screaming. When I found you, you were unconsious, thats why everything is coming to you slow right now. I dragged you here to get better. I'm sorry if I made your back worse, I really didn't mean too..."  
  
"How did you get my shirt?" Seamus asked, slowly bringing up a hand to rub his temple. Something warm and sticky coated over his fingers.  
  
"Very carefully," 'Erskine' replied. "Your Harper, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes," Seamus answered reluctantly. "I saw your brother on the streets... seems it was a good idea to save you afterall."  
  
"He always said I was good like that," 'Erskine' giggled. "Don't worry Harper, I'll have you good as new in no time!"  
  
"Call me Seamus," he whispered, closing his eyes again. "Or Shay, or anything... just not Harper." The girl nodded, though he couldn't see it.  
  
"My name is Tasha," she whispered back. She crawled over to him, and placed his shirt over his bare chest. "Tasha Erskine. Thank you for saving me Seamus..."  
  
With that, he fell back to sleep, praying for it to be a dreamless one. 


	3. One Too Many

One Too Many  
  
_'Sh-shay?' The frightened voice of the lady stuttered. Her blue eyes almost hurt his vision from the red pools around them. 'Shay, what happened?'  
  
He looked down at his hands, blurred by his tears. He wished everything wasn't so red... he wished he didn't have to have killed them... he wished things were different.  
  
He didn't like being the strong one.  
  
'I killed them mother,' he stated calmly, looking up at her. 'I killed them.'  
  
'Why..?' she asked. He watched as she cried, unable to look away. 'Why Seamus? They... they were- ARE, your cousins.'  
  
'I killed them,' he repeated without reason. His knees failed him, and he fell to the floor, forced to look at his victims... pale, dead faces, obscured by sheets of red, looked back up at him...  
_  
Seamus' eyes snapped open, and once again he was covered in cold sweat. He tried to sit up, but not only did he ache all over, but a dead weight was on top of him. Or was that an alive weight?  
  
"Mmm..." someone moaned from ontop of him. Seamus thought frantically until he matched it with Erskine who had been with him last night in the ally. Some of the weight shifted, then Seamus was looking into deep pools of merky hazel. "'Mornin'..."  
  
"Why are you using me as a pillow?" Seamus asked, trying to keep his voice as even as possible; if he had calculated his own damage correctly, he would need her help.  
  
"Firstly cause you were shivvering so I thought I would warm ya up," the girl chirped. Her good mood was way to early in the morning, and Seamus surpressed a groan. "And secondly, there aren't any other pillows around."  
  
"Swell..." Seamus sighed. "Well, I have to go..."  
  
"I'll go with you!" Erskine said a little too loudly, but at least she sat up. Seamus glared at her.  
  
"Shut up!" he hissed as he struggled to sit up as well. She pouted, but helped him. "You can't come with me, alright?"  
  
"Alright..." the girl said sadly. She fiddled with a necklace around her neck, which had three small, disc-like beads woven into it. "But... at least let me help you?" Seamus stared at her blankly; if he believed in luck, he would of sworn it was his lucky day. As it was, he didn't believe in luck.  
  
"Sure," he shrugged minutely, and she smiled again. As she slipped behind him and pushed up his shirt to cheek on his burns, he hung his head and thought to himself. Wait... his shirt? "Didn't you take my shirt off?"  
  
"If I'm capable of taking it off of you," she teased lightly; he winched as she touched his tender skin, and she started to tear something, and wrapping it around his lower back and abdomens. "Don't you think I would be capable of putting it back on?"  
  
"I guess..." Seamus said slowly. "Hey um... what's your name again?" She giggled.  
  
"Tasha Erskine," she told him. "Can you remember that, Charming?" Seamus blinked.  
  
"Charming?"  
  
"Yeah!" she giggled more. "In ever story of a dansel in distress, she's saved by either a Knight in Shining Armour, or Prince Charming! Didn't you know?"  
  
"I don't listen to foolish little childrens tales," Seamus snarled. He neglected to mention that he used to love to hear about them when he was younger... he just couldn't remember any of them.  
  
"I know a lot," Tasha said happily. "Maybe I'll tell you someday?"  
  
"Maybe," Seamus replied absently; he had no intention to see her again. "Sure, whatever."  
  
"We'll have lots of fun!" Tasha continued, finishing with his back and moving to check his head. She grabbed his bandana that had been tossed carelessly to the side, and after inspecting it carefully, tied it over his head tightly. "And maybe you can tell me some stories, too?"  
  
"I don't know any," Seamus said as he tried to stand. Tasha stood too, and helped him when he fumbled. There was a burning pain in his leg; he would have to get Brendan to check that out.  
  
"You just make it up along the way," Tasha shrugged, barely managing to hold up his small weight. They tumbled along, lasping into silence as they met the main street. Seamus guided her with soft words spoken in her ear, telling her to walk in the gutters, though she protested, and to keep her head low when a Nietzschean walked by.  
  
He could of shouted with relief when he saw the familiar ally way, and with a quick look in either direction, they stumbled down it.  
  
"I never thought I would see an Earther who lived a sheltered life," Seamus whispered to her. She grinned, but he didn't see.  
  
"My brother kept me indoors all the time, except when we had to move," she explained. "We had three children with us, one only a baby, that I took care of. They stayed with me. My mother used to tell me and my brother stories all the time, so to occupy the time I retold them my mother's stories, and made up a few of my own."  
  
"That explains some of it," Seamus nodded, and noticed the entrance of the tunnels up ahead. "Doesn't explain why your better fed then others..."  
  
"My brother worked tooth and nail to get scraps for us," she continued, pausing to readjust his weight on her shoulders. "And he stayed out as late as nessisary to make sure we got food each night; we ate as much as anyone else, if not less, just that we ate on a day-to-day basis, instead of a few times every week." Seamus nodded. Another thought entered his mind.  
  
What happened to the kids?  
  
Before he could ask, they entered the tunnels, and immediately, as had happened before, they were surrounded by kids.  
  
"We heard about the explosion!"  
  
"That was _so_ cool Shay!"  
  
"You should of invited us along!"  
  
Seamus didn't know how they did it, but Tasha got them through the sea of kids, and sitting down on a low, hard bench. As Tasha knelt next to him to check his head again, Brendan pushed his way over, some homemade whiskey in his hands.  
  
"Shay!" He laughed; A brilliant blue bruise was still on his cheek. "That was terrific! You are all forgiven; I understand. It was just pre-mission jitters. Oh, who is this pretty young lady?"  
  
"Don't think of it Brendan," Seamus muttered under his breathe. Tasha was blushing lightly at Brendan's comment, and a blissful smile played on her lips as she deemed his head wound still alright.  
  
"Ah... alright," Brendan winked a little. "She's yours then?"  
  
"No," Seamus glared up at him. "But she'll be out of here soon enough, and she's a guest until then. Treat her with what dignity you don't have." Looking from the corner of his eye, he saw that Trisha's blush had deepened.  
  
"Wouldja like some whiskey, m'dear?" Brendan offered her, cocking a brow smartly. She giggled, and nodded. Handing her a whiskey bottle, he sat down between her and Seamus, putting an arm around both of the younger teens. Tasha opened the bottle with little difficultly, and with a moments hesitation, gulped down a couple of sips. She sputtered slightly, some of the amber liquid running down her face, and started to cough.  
  
"Great," Seamus sighed. "You introduced someone to their first glass of whiskey. Something to be real proud of in your future Bren..."  
  
"And you should be proud of getting your leg wrecked up?" Brendan shot back. Seamus didn't reply to this. "I won't be able to help that leg... Kiki might. Oi! Kiki! Get yer ass over here!!" Seamus winched at the yelling, but in a few moments, a dehydrated looking girl with pinched skin covered in scars, and one eye patched closed came up to them.  
  
"Yes?" Kiki said, brushing matted shoulder-length hair behind her ears.  
  
"Can you help Seamus with his leg?" Brendan asked, gesturing to Seamus' leg. Kiki eyed it over, and nodded.  
  
"Doesn't look like anything too serious..." With that said, she pulled Seamus to a stand again, white agony spreading through his body as he put weight onto his leg. He was forced to hobble behind her to her table across the room. He almost collasped because of the pain, but finally could sink into another low, hard bench. Kiki sat down on the ground infront of him, and looked at his leg. He closed his eyes, and rested his head back against the wall.  
  
He hated it when Kiki had to fix him up. The remedies almost always involved her only pair of pliars and a lot of pain, though she was known for being able to steal bandages very easily. Seamus was suddenly in a whole hell of a lot of pain, but before he knew it, something small, triangular and sharp was yanked out of him, causing the blood flow to go faster, but removing a good deal of afrementioned pain with it.  
  
"'Bout time..." Seamus said through gritted teeth. Kiki didn't listen as she bandaged up the wound with yellowish-white bandages, then took some sort of cardboard, and bandaged it and his leg up again.  
  
"Any better?" Kiki asked, standing up. Harper gingerly put a little weight onto his leg; it still stabbed at him like white hot knives, but a particular extra sharp prod of pain had disappeared.  
  
"Slightly," Harper said, sitting back. Kiki sat beside him, and waved to someone. In a few moments, they both had bottles of whiskey. "For me?"  
  
"Yes, my favourite little Onnagirai," Kiki said with a smile. Seamus glared at her as he open the whiskey.  
  
"I don't hate women," he hissed out, sipping the whiskey. It burned his throat and set his stomach aflame, making him forget about the pain in his leg. "If I did, you would of been dead long ago."  
  
"Good to know," Kiki laughed, drinking some of her own whiskey as well. They both settled down a bit after that, just drinking in peace.  
  
Seamus had always liked Kiki. She accepted him and his dark little ways of thinking, though she could never figure out what was going on in that head of his. She had giving up with hope a long, long time ago, like him, though unlike him she tried to make the most of what little her life had to offer, spending most of it in the tunnels, prying things out of people.  
  
"Your girlfriend was pretty," Kiki said suddenly; Seamus was about halfway through his whiskey, and almost choked.  
  
"She's not my girlfriend Kiki," he grumbled. "She sorta saved my life, and I needed her to help me get here. Not a girlfriend."  
  
"She looks like a virgin," she said randomly. This time, he did choke.  
  
"_Why_ would I want to know that?" he asked, glaring at her. She looked at him boredly.  
  
"Because unless she is to lose her virginity at the end of the night," Kiki stated. "She should stop drinking, and Brendan should probably stop kissing her neck." Seamus looked across the room, and sure enough, Tasha was laughing like mad, her cheeks glowing red, as Brendan leaned in every few seconds and placed a kiss or two on her neck.  
  
"I thought I told him to treat her like a guest," Seamus grounded out as he stood up. His leg hurt, but the whiskey had done wonders to make him not feel it as much. He hobbled back across the room, and separated the two, maybe a little harsher then he should of. For the second time, Brendan ended up on the floor.  
  
"I thought you said she wasn't yours," Brendan glared up at him, as Seamus pulled Tasha to a stand. Tasha crashed into him, giggling still. She went to take another sip of her whiskey, but Seamus took it off of her, causing her to pout and whine.  
  
"She isn't," Seamus glared down at him as he started to limp away. "I told you she was a guest until she leaves; you don't do that to a guest Brendan. Jeez, if you can't learn to grow up, at least learn get a few morals!"  
  
For the second time, everyone watched as he left.  
  
For the first time, he left with someone else.  
  
"C - hic - arming?" Tasha said, fluttering her eyes at him. Seamus stopped outside the tunnels to think of what to do with her. He couldn't very well leave her out in the allies... that would just be asking for some unmentionalble thing to be done to her. "Are wee go - hic - goin' to - hic - wide off inta de sun - hic - set now?"  
  
"Sure," he said, brushing back a few of her bangs as he smiled at her. His smile was false and bitter, but she returned it none-the-less. "Come on... I think you had one too many drinks..."  
  
Her giggling followed, as he pulled her down the allies by the hand.  
  
She would be the first stranger to enter his ghetto... 


	4. Family Matters

Family Matters  
  
Seamus sat hunched over in his chair. He didn't really know how he got back home, because halfway through the walk his mind started to remember the pain in his back and leg. Rubbing his temples, he glanced over towards his bed; he wanted nothing more then to sink into the piece of wood and sleep for a week. His head felt as if it had split in two, thanks to the whiskey, and he didn't think he would be able to go find the stash of the alchohal he kept in the second entry room. He had retrieved the bucket from the third entry room, for when Tasha woke up.  
  
Said girl was tossing and turning in her sleep, on his bed. She whispered incoherent words under her breathe that Seamus could only roll his eyes at. He tried to concentrait on the small bowl of water infront of him instead of the girl in his bed. It proved to be impossible when she rolled right off of it.  
  
"Wha... where am I?" a sleepy voice asked, as she woke up. "Tai? Matouye? Where are you guys? Chris?"  
  
"Only me," Seamus muttered quietly. She must of heard, for she spun around quickly, only to groan. Seamus sighed and stood up. He wobbiled over to her, and pushed the bucket into her hands. She looked up at him, confused, before turning slightly green and folding over it. Seamus' hands worked on automatic as they pulled back the hair that had fallen from her braid, and rubbed her back soothingly.  
  
Once Tasha had vomitted everything out of her empty stomach, she straighted herself up. Her face was pale and tired, and he could tell that her head hurt just as much as his did.  
  
"Where am I?" she repeated, merky hazel eyes blinking at him.  
  
"My little ghetto," Seamus explained. "I couldn't just leave you out on the street."  
  
"How sweet of you," Tasha smiled at him warmly. "Your ever so charming, Charming!"  
  
"Go back to sleep, Sleeping Beauty," Seamus snapped at her as he stood back up. She gawked at him. "What?"  
  
"You know of the story of Sleeping Beauty!" she squealed, only to pounce on him. The motion made his vision blurr over for awhile, and he could only assume that the same happened to her.  
  
"No, I don't," Seamus muttered, pushing her away. "Why would I know some useless wife's tale about someone sleeping?"  
  
"You called me Sleeping Beauty," Tasha pointed out. "So you must know it."  
  
"That's what Kiki calls me whenever I wake up in the tunnels," Seamus rolled his eyes again. "Would you let go of me now?" Tasha let go of him slowly, and sat back down. She stared up at him with wide eyes, still gummed up with sleep.  
  
"Who's Kiki?" she asked innocently. Seamus groaned, and sat back down beside her. He fell onto his back, closing his eyes as he winched in pain.  
  
"A girl I know," he said. "She helps me when I'm sick... usually." There was a few moments of silence, before Tasha hesitantly laid down beside him.  
  
"Shay?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Do you have any alchohal?" now that shocked him. It must of shone on his face, "it's an old trick my brother taught me. You put it on burns, and it helps take the pain out of it, and for it to heal over faster."  
  
"Go through the door," Seamus answered her. "Be careful of wires and other traps, and then go through the door on the left. There should be some in the filing cabnet in the far corner."  
  
Tasha didn't answer as she got up, but Seamus listened to her movements. Her footfalls were slow and calculated, and once or twice she stumbled. She deffinately wasn't a practiced drinker. After a few minutes, she stumbled back into the room, and managed to sit on the bed beside him.  
  
"Roll over," she said. He complied, moving to his stomach, pillowing his head in his arms. She pushed up his shirt, and a second later poured the liquid on his back. Seamus winched again, but he had to admit that it helped, if only a little. Her cold hands danced over his old scars, trying to get as much of the booze on his skin without actually using too much of it. It didn't take too long. Once she was done she laid beside him again, resting her head on one of his elbows.  
  
"Finished?" Seamus inquired, mostly just for conversation. He felt rather then saw when Tasha nodded. "Do you have any family?"  
  
"No," she said. Her voice was small and scared, much like when he had first heard it. He decided he didn't like it that much... "Matouye, Tai and Chris where the closest things to little brothers that I had, and Kyle was my brother. They were all killed."  
  
"No one else?" Seamus asked, no sympathy in his voice. He was empathic, yes, but she had been let off easy. "No cousins or aunts that I can leave you with?"  
  
"No," she snuggled up closer to him, and he stiffened before trying to force himself to relax. "No family. I was really little when they all died; Kyle has been taking care of me ever since."  
  
"Swell..." Seamus sighed. "Well... maybe Kiki will take you in."  
  
"Can't I stay here?" Tasha asked. "I like it here."  
  
"You've only been consious for ten minutes, maybe less. You can't like it here."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It's illogical."  
  
"Not everything hasta be logical ya know," Seamus stiffened again when something wet flickered across his cheek, but he knew that Tasha had probably just blown him a strawberry.  
  
"Everything in life is simple Mathematics and Equations," Seamus gritted out to her. "Therefore, everthing has a logical reason behind it."  
  
"You've gotta learn to live," Tasha giggled slightly, and Seamus found himself grinning. Well, at least her chirpy tone of voice had returned... "Common, please let me stay?"  
  
"And why should I?"  
  
"Well... if you want a logical reason," Tasha stretched slightly, and drapped an arm over his back; again, he tensed. "Because I'm weak willed and if an Uber ever caught me and iterrogated me, I would be able to tell them when your home is."  
  
"Not if I move you while your sleeping."  
  
"Light sleeper."  
  
"Knock you unconsious?  
  
"Are you really that primitive?"  
  
"Kill you?"  
  
"You wouldn't," Tasha giggled, and Seamus turned his head to glare at her sharply. His icey gaze stopped her cheery sounds immediately, and she looked at him in fear. Fear that he he had seen countless times. Fear he had worn himself. Fear for Ubers. Fear for himself.  
  
"Guess your right," Seamus sighed, and relaxed again. Tasha instantly smiled. "Only logical to keep you hear... but cause me any trouble and your dead."  
  
"I'll be good," Tasha promised. "I'll be good..." 


	5. Waiting for the Rain

Waiting for the Rain

It had been a week since the explosion. A week since Tasha started to live in the ghetto. A week since Seamus got to sleep on his own bed.

Once again Seamus sat hunched over in his chair, only this time he was trying to clean out his cerebral interface. The small bowl of water in front of him was tinged yellow, but was mostly clear. In any other circumstance, he would of been worried, but to his own surprise, Tasha had helped him out with another 'alcohol trick'. Just pour a bit into the water, and it would sterilize it. Not as well as the proper medical alcohol, but since Seamus took time to find the cleanest water he could, it worked well enough.

Speaking of Tasha... she sat curled up beside the window, looking out of it to the green-grey skies.

"It's going to rain," she said softly. Seamus cast her a glance, before continuing to clean out his port. After several moments of silence, he felt her gaze on the back of his head. "Don't you care about the rain? It can be quite lovely."

"Replace lovely with deadly and your dead on," Seamus muttered darkly. He gave up on cleaning his port for the moment, and straightening up, turned to look at her. The movements caused his back to sting, and his leg to tang with pain, but it was getting better. "If you enjoy watching the unlucky ones whither in agony. If you like listening to screams of pain... how do you know it's going to rain?"

Tasha smiled at him distantly. He had become accustomed to her, and whenever she felt that he needed space and quiet, she wore that smile. "I broke all of my ribs a few years ago," she replied to his question. "It was when my family died... some of the bones pierced right through the skin, and only my brother had any hope that I would survive; even I thought I would die. He ended up cutting my skin and forcing my bones back inside of me, and eventually they healed up, but ever since then I always knew when it was going to rain... a sort of icy sensation, that doesn't quite hurt, but doesn't really tingle."

"Right..." Seamus shook his head. "And why should I believe you?" Tasha smiled mysteriously.

"Wanna make a bet?" she asked, a glint coming to her eyes. Seamus suppressed a groan.

"Sure, why not?" he muttered. "But I don't have anything worthwhile."

"Never fear!" Tasha giggled, but soon gripped her stomach tightly. Her cheery expression never left her face, though Seamus knew why her giggling stopped. She was hungry. They had run out of food a few days before, and she was trying her best not to complain. "For I don't need material objects... just listen to my stories and I shall be glad."

"I listen to your stories anyways," Seamus replied dryly. As a way to pass time each night, Tasha muttered fairy tales to herself. He guessed it was a way to soothe herself before she slept, for it was usually several hours before she started to toss and turn before her nightmares. On the first night it had taken only moments before they started.

"You actually listen?" Tasha gawked at him again, like the time he had called her sleeping beauty.

"Kind of hard not to," Seamus glared at her. "You've stolen my bed, and I'm not accustomed to the floor."

"You can take the bed," Tasha offered as she climbed off of the bed and walked over to him. She took the piece of clothe he had been using out of his hand, dipped it in the water, and guiding his head and neck with her hand gently, started to clean his cerebral interface for him. Seamus tensed out of habit, and shut his eyes as he tried to calm his paranoid thoughts. "Besides... I think the floor might be softer."

"Very funny," Seamus muttered. "If it rains, which it won't, I'll give you a foot massage."

"Foot massage?" Tasha paused, and he could feel her gaze and imagine her surprised expression, before she continued. "Sounds nice... you've gotta be careful Mr Har-"

Whatever she was going to say next, was never heard.

Seamus, once again acting out of habit, pushed her away from him. His paranoid thoughts increased dramatically as he watched her arm's flailing about as she tried to catch herself; everything was in slow motion.

He saw the object before she tripped over it, and calculated exactly how she was going to land before she was halfway through falling. His options were clear: cause her a few seconds pain and save her from a concussion, or let her get the concussion and lose her trust.

He knew the logical answer. He knew what he should of done. He knew how she was most likely going to react.

But he couldn't move.

The back of her head whacked against the hard board of the bed, and sent her to the floor in an awkward position. He didn't move. Her long hair, out from her usual braid from the combing she was doing before she favoured looking out of the window was fanned about her, almost prettily. He didn't even blink. Something red appeared at the base of her skull, and her eyes opened slowly, dilated and scared. His face was emotionless.

Then the red came. It washed over him without warning, cloaking around him like a cape... and he let it.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing. His back and leg were in pain, and he could feel several scratch marks embedded around healing burns, along with matching ones on his face. The room was darker, telling him that night had come with its green-black skies and discussing reek of burning flesh that accompanied the fires.

But all of that didn't matter, for someone was crying.

He was facing the door, frozen, trying to decide whether or not to turn. He had a strong suspicion he was the reason the person was crying. And not just any person..._ Tasha. _Tasha who had saved him and over the past week helped him back to health, Tasha, the one who had nightmares in his bed, who woke up with a bang every morning.

He risked looking back, only to see hazel eyes looking at him. There was only one emotion them... _fear._

"Please..." she sobbed, her back pressed against the wall. Seamus felt vomit in his throat as he notice that her clothes were ripped. Tasha was hugging herself too tightly, and he couldn't tell how badly they were ruined... "I'm sorry... please... forgive me..."

"Tasha, I..." Seamus found himself saying. Tasha winched at his words, and pulled herself into a tight ball. "I..." She started to shake violently, and her crying became louder. Without another word, Seamus turned and left.

He stumbled and stepped haphazardly, almost setting off his own traps as he headed back to the streets. He tumbled down allies aimlessly, not knowing where he was heading.

Before he knew it, he was almost at the tunnels.

He stopped again, and looked at the entrance blankly. Memories flooded his vision, and redness threatened to take over again...

_...his cousins, lying lifeless, looking up at him..._

The images, they flashed across his vision.

_...his mother, staring at him fearfully from a corner..._

If they weren't drenched in red, they were black and white.

_...Nietzcheans standing over his father, screaming in pain and begging for mercy..._

And fearfully real... he could never forget them.

_...Brendan yelling at him with a bleeding face..._

He had been at every one of them, and at every one of them, he finally blacked out.

_...Kiki curled up, trying not to cry as she watched him..._

But he would remember his black outs sooner or later... in his dreams. Drenched in red with peeking glances of greys, and the blues of his mothers eyes. He would never, ever forget any of them, because forever they would haunt him. What was worse, is he had no control. He was someone else completely when the redness took over... stronger, deadlier, and with no guilt.

"Shay!" he was brought back to reality by a voice, and looking around, he saw Kiki standing at the entrance to the tunnel. The first drops of rain were falling. "Come on inside now! Before the acid falls on you!"

Seamus didn't move. How could he? A girl that he barely knew was lying on his bed crying this very moment, and he didn't know why.

It started to rain a little harder.

Kiki groaned, and ran out into the rain. She winched a little as a few droplets hit her skin, but didn't dare stop until well after she had grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside of the tunnels. All the children were asleep, as were most of the adults. The only people awake were the two of them, two guards at the door (one with a gun Seamus had supplied him with) and someone smoking someone that caused a light green smoke to dance throughout the room, sitting across the hall.

Kiki pushed him down onto one of the low, hard benches, and sat beside him, glaring.

"What exactly where you doing out there in the rain?" she demanded. "And why didn't you come in when I called you?"

"What's black and white and red all over?" Seamus asked. His voice sounded almost... depressed. He didn't get like this often, but Kiki knew what to do... in fact, Kiki and Brendan were the only ones that knew what to do.

First she slapped him. Hard. Seamus' cheek stung as his head swung to the side with the blow, almost hitting the wall. He could almost taste coppery blood in his mouth...

Then Kiki hugged him tightly. He almost suffocated, and finally his mind did something it was supposed to, and ever so slowly, he pried Kiki off of him.

"What happened?" Kiki asked, loosening her hold on him, but not letting go. She rests her shin on his shoulder, looking at the side of his face. "What troubles you this time?"

"I don't know..." Seamus muttered, biting his lip as he looked down. "I... I blacked out again. Alls I remember was that Tasha..." he trailed off, looking for the words.

"What did Tasha do?" Kiki asked. When he didn't answer, she tried again. "What happened before you blacked out?"

"We were talking," Seamus answered. "She mentioned that it was going to rain, and I didn't believe her... we made a bet. She got up to help me clean my port, and I said that if it rained, I would give her a foot massage..."

"Lucky girl," Kiki smiled. "You always were good with your hands."

"And she started to say something," Seamus continued as if he hadn't heard her. It was a good thing; if he had stopped, he wouldn't have been able to finish. "I... I don't know what... but she started to call me 'Harper'... a-and... and..." Seamus didn't know it, but he was almost at tears. "And I pushed her..."

"You pushed her?" Kiki blinked, and backed away from him. The loss of contact must of affected him, for he looked up at her. "Is... is she alright?"

"I don't know," Seamus answered, whipping away the tears before they could fall. "I blacked out right after..."

"What happened when you came to?" Kiki demanded, a furious light in her eyes he had only seen once before; when he came to after blacking out several years ago, only to find Brendan, bloody and unconscious at his feet, and everyone staring at him. "Was she alright then?"

"She was crying," Seamus answered, trying to school his voice back to normal. "She was lying on my bed, crying. I was facing the door at first, so I didn't see her, and when I turned around, she started begging for forgiveness... and..."

"And what?" Kiki continued to glare.

"Her clothes were torn Kiki," Seamus said quietly, looking down to the ground again. "I don't know what I did to her, but I hope to death it wasn't what I think it was..."

"It better not of been," Kiki huffed as she stood up. Seamus watched as she walked across the room, but knew better then to follow her. Instead he ran his hands through his hair.

_'How stupid can you get Seamus Z?'_ he berated himself. _'You could of helped her... you could of stopped yourself from doing that... you could of-'_

"Here," Kiki's voice startled him, and she thrust a bunch of second hand clothes into his lap, and some provisions. "You'll need those for when you go back."

"But-"

"No buts," Kiki glared at him, and sat down again. "You'll just have to hand her the clothes, try to help with her wounds, give her space if she needs it, and explain about your black outs."

"But-"

"I said no buts!" Kiki yelled. The man across the room stared, and a few people stirred for a moment before sinking back into sleep. "If she's living with you, and obviously she is, then she has to know this. You've told me of times you've blacked out just because you were too depressed and hadn't been outside for long enough. She has a right to know so that she can get out of your way; so that she knows what to do!"

Grimly, Seamus saw the logic in this, nodded, and stood up. He walked towards the entrance of the tunnels, and stood there, waiting for the rain to stop. And Kiki?

Kiki just glared.


	6. Bittersweet

**Bittersweet**

_"Please! I'll do anything, just don't hurt my son!" Seamus watched, hidden in a cabnet in the corner of the room. His mother and father stood, sobbing, trying to fend away the Nietzcheans._

_"I'm sorry..." his mother kept on repeating, over and over again. "I'm so sorry..."_

_"Where is the boy!" the biggest asked, smacking his father across the face. It sent the smaller man to the ground, and Seamus started to shake as blood dripped from his mouth and onto the dirty work books that he shot through every day._

_Come to think of it... red was everywhere. Seeping in at the edges of his vision, blurring over people and shapes, until it was so thick that the only way to tell one thing from another was the density of the redness._

_"I'll ask you one more time," the Nietzchean said venomously. "Where. Is. The. Boy."_

_"I'll never tell you, Uber!" his father screamed couragously. His mother sobbed louder, falling to her knees. She raised a shaky hand towards the cabnet._

_"Thank you, kludge," the Nietzchean sneered. But he didn't go for the cabnet; no, he slapped his mother, causing her to fall to the floor as well, then turned on his father._

_The last things Seamus remembered, was silently crying for his parents..._

His eyes snapped open, sweat practically pouring from his skin. He whipped the sweat from his brow and looked back outside. The rain had slowed down somewhat, and a short relaspe would occure if he was really lucky.

"Shay?" he snapped around, still edgy. It was only Kiki.

"Yeah?" he asked gruffly. He fingered the lump in his sweatshirt, from the clothes and rations stuffed there for Tasha.

"If you hurt her in any way that is unfixable," Kiki threatened; her voice was never higher then a whisper, yet never ceased to make him shudder. "I will not kill you... no, I will do much, much worse, until you wish you were dead."

"Too late for that," Seamus chuckled dryly. "Not only do I wish I were dead, but my heart and most of my mind really are; only so long until my body follows."

"Don't talk like that," Kiki said, glaring at him. She leaned against the entrance beside him. "What's black and white and red all over?"

"Betrayal," Seamus answered. "Why can't you ever just ask me normally?"

"Why can't you ever just answer me normally?" Kiki shot back. "Now... are you going to leave now? Or later?"

"Now," Seamus nodded to himself. He tugged up his hood over his dirty hair, and without another glance at Kiki, stepped back outside and hurried along the streets. The last bits of rain burned holes into his sweatshirt, and then into his skin, but it barely registered into his mind... 

What did register was when, several minutes later, he ran into something. Something large. Something large, tall, and living. And that something large was mad.

Seamus stepped back and looked around him quickly. He was on the sidewalk; how crazy could he get! There was a small ally to his left, but he would have to cross the street, so that wa out of the question. There was a sewer entrance below him... but the Nietzchean was too close for him to make it that way alive.

He muttered an appology, and stepped off of the sidewalk. He tried to get away before the Uber thought twice about him, but he wasn't that lucky...

"What do you think your doing, kludge?" he asked, grabbing hold of his shoulder. Seamus winched, and almost immediately, red started to shimmer at the edges of his vision.

"Jus' out fer a walk..." Seamus mumbled, trying to do one of the stupid impressions that Brendan used to do all the time. "Why? Izzit a crime?"

"It's a crime to disrespect those of higher rank than you," the Nietzchean snarled, whirling him around. Seamus' hood fell, and it clicked into his mind that the rain had stopped. He hoped against hope that the Nietzchean didn't recognise him... "And you, kludge, have done that."

"Sorri," Seamus said, keeping his eyes low. He rolled his shoulder slightly, in attempt to hide his data port... thankfully the Nietzchean didn't notice. No, he was too busy swinging his fist back...

In moments Seamus was sprawled out awkwardly on the ground, he didn't dare move more then to groan pathetically and raise his hand to his neck, or to curl up as the Uber kicked his gut several times. It was only a few minutes before the Nietzchean grew tired of him and walked away to find new pray...

Nietzcheans were too easy to predict.

Seamus listened carefully until he was possitive that no one was near by before he cautiously stood up. Out of habit he looked both ways before slipping into the small ally he spied earlier and walked down it. It was better to be safe then sorry.

He was relieved to see that the street continued on the other side, and walked down it carefully. It wasn't until he had walked three or four blocks when he realised where he was. He was so used to getting to his home from the other direction, that he hadn't realised he was right at it! In fact, if he looked up, he could see his window, and the very tip of his burnt out candle...

He strained his ears, but couldn't hear anyone crying.

He made his way around the building slowly, looking this way and that for Ubers. He found none. He entered the building, still being careful. Each step seemed to take forever, and straying just a little weighed down his heart.

_'I knew I never should of gotten attached to anyone,'_ he thought to himself. _'But wait... I've only known her for a week! It's illogical that I could be attached to her! Unless she's a witch...'_

"Great Seamus Z.," he muttered aloud. "Now your thinking like your primative forefathers..."

When he finally reached the final entrance to his ghetto, he shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He tried to prepare himself for whatever would be waiting for him... when he did finally step into his home, he was quite shocked.

There was Tasha sitting at his desk, humming as she organised his papers... in fact, his entire home was neatly organised. Everything from stains on the floor to tears and rips in material to the blood on his knife was cover up, stichted up or cleaned in some way. And when Tasha looked up to greet him, there was no tears or sadness in her eyes.

What shocked him even more was that she jumped up and ran to give him a bone crushing hug.

"Your back!" she giggled. "Hope you don't mind... I got sort of bored so I cleaned everything up! I even found a needle and some thread, so I could fix some things up. Good, no?"

"Tasha... I..." Seamus blinked. "Okay, what happened?"

"Nothing!" she said a little too quickly. She walked back over to the desk and finished organising the papers before turning to look at him. "So... did you get what you leaved for?"

"What?" he blinked again. "What did I leave for?"

"Nothing!" she repeated. "It doesn't matter! Did you have fun while you were gone?"

"This is Earth Tasha," Seamus looked at her curiously. "Okay... spill. What's up with you?"

"I told you," Tasha giggled again. "Nothing... can't you trust me?"

"I barely know you," Seamus sighed, and sat down on his bed. "I got you some clothes though... and some food."

"That's nice of you," Tasha sat down in his chair, looking at him. "But I really don't need anything... thanks."

"No really, you do," Seamus replied, pulling the clothes and rations out of his sweater. He tossed them to her, and she looked through them slowly. "Well... what have you been up to since I've been gone?"

"Just cleaning," Tasha said slowly, distracted by the clothes. "Why?"

"Well... um..." Seamus fell back onto his bed, and looked up at the cracked ceiling. Now was the perfect time to ask... all he had to do was say 'because I was wondering if whatever I did before I left effected you... speaking of which, what did I do before I left?'. Or maybe, 'I'm sorry, I suffer from some god forsaken mental illness that makes me black out, and I have no clue what I did to you. Please tell me I didn't rape you!'. "No reason... though you should change, you'll want to look nice for Kiki."

"Kiki?" Tasha's voice sounded nervous, and slightly scared. "Why would I be seeing Kiki?" Seamus propped himself up on his elbows to look at her panicked face. He didn't know why he was saying this... it was as if he didn't have controll over himself.

"Because you'll be living with her," he answered. He closed his eyes for a few moments: when he opened them, Tasha's merky hazel eyes glistened red with tears... He was getting close to another black out. "It's safer, and more logical then for you to stay here."

"But... but..." her tears fell freely now. "But I want to stay! Please! Forgive me, I'm sorry!"

At these words Seamus' vision swam ever more with red, and his mind span as if he were intoxicated.

_'--Never, -ever- call me that again or else I'll throw you out!--'_

_'--No... please don't! I'm so sorry! I won't do anything like that ever again! Please!!--'_

_'--Shut up! Your too much of a liability to have around you bitch!--'_

Seamus shook his head. Where had that come from?

"It's logical Tasha," Seamus said soothingly. "Eat some food and get changed, and then I'll take you to the tunnels... and don't worry. She'll treat you well." Seamus stood up and headed for the door.

"Wh-where are you going?" she asked, her voice small and shrill.

"Just to look around," Seamus reassured her. Tasha nodded feebily, and curled up tightly on the chair. That was the last time Seamus saw her for awhile, and forever as he would remember her...

Bittersweet memories never fade.


	7. Missing: 5'2

Missing: 5'2"

Seamus shuffled around the dim streets, his head bowed low. He had his hands stuffed into his sweater to keep them warm, his hood pulled up to hide his hair. He would wait a few more minutes before he went back up to check on Tasha... after all, who knew what he had done to her?

_'It couldn't of been that bad...'_ he reasoned with himself. _'She didn't seem that upset... rather she's upset I'm making her go...' he sighed lightly. 'Maybe I should jus-'_

His train of throught was interrupted as someone grabbed at his ankles, tripping him. In mere moments someone's tired and rotting body was ontop of his, trying to snatch anything of intrest. Grimy fingers tore at his data port in vain, only to be broken seconds later. Shaken, Seamus fought off the unseen onslought and crawled back to the street. He watched breathlessly as a lump of a human body whimpered pathetically to itself and laid down on the cracked pavement, too weak to seek the shelter of the shadows.

"Another logical reason she has to go," he mused aloud as he stood up, forcing his body to calm itself as he started to head back to his ghetto. "With her gone I'll only have to worry about myself again. Worrying about other people leads to unnessisary trouble..."

_'Speaking to yourself leads to unnessisary trouble,'_ he reminded himself. He shook his head, his dirty hair falling into his eyes.

Reaching the building out of sheer memory was a thing he was used to, but still hated. He never liked being off his guard, so concentraited more as he made his way through each of the rooms. Over trip wires, around cabnets, through splintered and worn doorframes, before he finally came to the entrance of his ghetto.

He stopped, closing his eye as he had the last time. He prepared himself to take her away, though he had no real reason to. Maybe it was because she was the first one to see his home that he needed to take so much care. Maybe it was just because he wasn't used to dealing with single peoples before.

Taking a deep breathe, he stepped into his ghetto and slowly opened his eyes. He skanned over the room: the filthy sheets on his bed where shooken out, almost looking inviting. Almost. Buckets and boards had been stacked into a makeshift shelf, ingenious really, but they made the other rooms just a litte bare. The shelf was stacked with his papers, discs, shriekers, little nick nacks he'd completely and were on the process of completing, and on the top shelf...

His shrine.

She had moved his shrine entirely to a new place. He growled and moved to grab it, but froze. It looked... good there. Hesitantly, he dropped his hand, and continued to looked around carefully.

Tasha was still curled over in his chair, shaking silently as if she were crying.

"Tasha?" he said. He was ashamed that worry had seeped into his voice, and scolded it before he spoke again. "Are you okay?"

He recieved no answer, so he slowly stepped forwards. With every step, he noticed everything that had changed in the room. The normal dust and grim had been forced to the very edges of the room, not very attractive, but more hygenic then before. Plans of all sorts were posted onto the walls, making them easier to read and covering up some very ugly cracks. His guns, most of which didn't even work at the moment, were all tossed into a crate, rather then thrown around the room to be tripped over...

"Thanks for cleaning up," he found himself saying. He sighed a little. "Hey... look. You don't really have to leave... with you cleaning up and all, it would actually be the logical thing to have you stay, and-" he stopped when he noticed she was still crying. "Tasha?" he moved to touched her shoulder softly...

She disappeared.

Seamus stood, watching where she had sat. His hand started to shake as his shoulders slummed down in submission.

_'It wasn't real... it was just a figment of your imagination...'_ he breathed slowly, and sat down in his chair. He rested his head on the desk, trying to think clearly._ 'But if this is a figment of your imagination... maybe your just dreaming? Maybe you didn't do anything to Tasha!'_

"Tough luck," he muttered. "No, -she- was a figment of your imagination... maybe she was never here in the first place."

_'But everything is all organized.'_

"Blacked out, remember?"

_'Alright then... what happened to her, Seamus 'Smart Ass' Zealanzy.'_

"She was never here."

_'She saved your life. You have scars on your back to thank for that; you're not telling me that was a figment of your imagination too? Are you that crazy?'_

"I'm having a conversation with myself, so yes, I am crazy enough to have that detailed of an imagination."

_'Yes, but those who are crazy think they are sane, so if you think you are crazy, you must be sane.'_

"How the hell did I get stuck with a voice in my head that's even more insane that I am?"

_'Shut up smart ass. Okay, I'll level wit cha... she was a figment of your imagination, but only just now. Got it? Only. Just. Now. All the other times she was there.'_

"And how do you know?"

_'I'm your brain Einstien, I know everything.'_

"Yeah well, brain? Your really starting to freak me out," Seamus stood up, and walked over to his bed. He fell into it with a sastis faction he though he would never have, though it was less comfortable then before.

He was almost off to sleep, when the voice came back.

_'She ran away you know...'_


	8. Eight Months

Eight Months

The water felt good on the back of his neck and on his warm forehead, but the burning in his lungs felt better. It was countered by a sharp pull at his collor bone, pulling his head out of the bucket.

He looked up, dirty water pouring down his face, into Kiki's glaring eyes. She didn't say a word, just took a cloth and started to scrub the grim out of his hair.

"I don't know why your doing this," he muttered, his head drooping forwards, too heavy for his neck. Kiki simply pushed the bucket aside and lifted his head up to clean his face.

"Because we're gonna find her soon," Kiki said in a monotone voice. She paused for a moment to scratch her almost-bald head. Thanks to the lice that had been travelling around the tunnels, almost everyone was forced to shave their heads, Kiki included. "And you do not need lice when you see her."

"You know, I would be able to forget all about her if you would just shut up," Seamus muttered. It wasn't filled with venom and hate, as it had in the past. "Hurry up and get this over with."

Kiki let go of his face, letting it fall forwards again. He waited, immobil as she shuffled around him. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift as they pleased...

Eight months... eight months to the day since Tasha had disappeared. Seamus had changed his home twice, blown up ten different Nietzchean bases, grown ever more quiet, and discovered his love for alchohal.

_Eight months_, and still he couldn't forget the merky hazel eyes of a girl he had only known for a week.

His eyes opened as he felt the cool metal of Kiki's pliars againt the back of his neck. She carefully snipped away his hair, and he watched as it fell around him. Little bugs landed on his clothes, and carelessly he flicked them away.

_'Is there really any meaning to life anymore?'_

"You can die if there are too many eggs in your head," he heard himself sneer. Kiki's hand quivered, and the next cut took away a little bit of his flesh as well. He barely felt it.

"Sorry Shay," she muttered, reaching for the cloth. He raised a hand to stop her.

"Don't bother... just finish," he could almost see her hesitant nod, and slowly she went back to work.

He heard foot steps around him, and the gentle tinking of a bracelet or necklace as someone came nearing. The sloshing of a new bucket of water being placed beside him wasn't lost either, but relitively unimportant, for now anyways.

"He's bleeding," it was Brendon. "Will he be alright?"

"He'll be fine," Kiki said softly. "Well... the wound will be anyways. What worries me is that he doesn't even acknowlegde it."

"What worries me," Seamus interrupted. "Is that you even acknowlege it."

"Its a good thing that we do," Brendon snapped back. Kiki turned a little and carefully cut the area above his right ear. "Because you don't! You're so wound up on something that you did to a girl you barely even know! What was so special about her anyways? There's lotsa girls around here that would want to spend their time with you Harper."

Seamus tensed.

"Don't call me that." he hissed. Kiki moved to cut the hair over his left ear now. "Never, ever call me that, got it Brendon?"

"It's who you are," Brendon sat down on the ground, glaring at him slightly. "Your going to have to come to terms with it sooner or later... and don't punch me, it's getting kind of old."

Seamus stood up quickly. Kiki shrieked slightly, but bit it back as she looked up at him. Seamus felt something warm trickling down his neck, but ignored it.

His gaze met squarely with Brendon's and he bit the insides of his cheek to fight the sudden urge to break his cousin's jaw. He took a few long, slow breathes, and dragged his hand through his hair, looking away from his cousin's face. Slowly, he sat back down.

Kiki continued to sheer his head, until there was nothing there but an uneven bristle. She let her hands brush over the rough texture, then sat back on her heels to look at the cousins.

"You look shorter now," Brendon stated with a little nod. "Maybe you'll get less girls swarming around you?"

"I don't care about the girls," Seamus snorted. "But maybe they'll stop thinking I'm Harper, or change their signs."

"They were only a little ways off," Kiki grinned, moving to sit infront of him again. She took the cloth and soaked it into the new bucket of water, then brought it up to scrub at Shay's head again. "Your next Brendon."

"No," Brendon said quickly. "No, no, no way in hell. Girls dig the hair, got it? The hair stays."

"Girls don't dig lice," Kiki added. Seamus sighed minutely, and closed his eyes again. Their words landed on deaf ears, for frankly, he really didn't care...

_"Never," her eyes widened beneath him, fightened. "-Ever- call me that again or else I'll throw you out!"_

_"No..." she pleaded, red tears coming to her hazel pools. "Please don't! I'm so sorry! I won't do anything like that ever again! Please!!"_

_"Shut up!" he screamed. She started shaking beneath him, bitting her lip. "Your too much of a liability to have around you bitch!" He pulled his hand back to slap her..._

_"Don't Harper," she begging. "Don't..." he froze again, glaring, but sat up so that he was straddling her hips._

_"Why do you call me that?" he hissed._

_"Because you are Harper," whimpering, she shut her eyes, red trails marring her cheeks. "I'm sorry I didn't see it before... you are Harper, and you before... you before were Seamus."_

_"I am -just- Seamus," his hands clenched into fists, and he pounded one into the wood beside her head, making her squeal as her eyes shot open once again. "Harper is -not- a part of me! I am -not- in -anyway- related to that -two timing-, -bitch- of a -traitor-!"_

_"Seamus Harper," drops of blood started to form at her dried lips. "I could imagine you to be a man to love... a man thatjust doesn't exsist..."_

_He glared at her, blue eyes as icicles, piercing straight through her soul. He got up off of her, and looked her over. Clothes torn from nails and splinters. Cheeks red from tears._

_"Your leaving," he said, his tone almost soft. The light in her eyes, present even through all his screaming and yelling, disappeared._

_"What..?" her voice was small, truly scared._

_"Your leaving," he repeated, his eyes softening for but a second. "Look at yourself, it would be better for you to leave..."_

_"But..." she sat up, pushing back her hair. "But you are a man to love Seamus Harper, have you only accept that-"_

_"I will -never- be that man!" he howled, no softness in his voice. She crumbled back to the bed, curling up as she sobbed. "I could never be that man! This is EARTH Tasha, and your too much of a liability to have around! When I get back, your out!"_

_He turned around to leave, ignoring her as she called him..._

_"Harper... Harper? Shay?"_

"Seamus!"

His eyes snapped open again, and he looked up into the glaring eyes of both Kiki and Brendon. "Jeez kid, your black outs are even worse..."

"That wasn't a black out," he snapped at Brendon. "And I'm _not_ a kid Brendon."

"Your short enough to be one," Brendon grinned. Seamus had to fight back the grin from his own face; this was the first time in a long time Brendon had truly smiled. "Common... lets go drink some whiskey and get ourselves some babes... remember that girl, Claire? She's still interested..."

"When will you grow up?" Seamus sighed, standing up slowly. "Claire is just another sl-"

"Say it," Kiki interrupted. "And loose much more then just 'Seamus Jr' in your sleep."

"Girl," he ammended. "She's just another girl who has no business with me, and only likes me for the crazy alter ego."

"Which, thankfully, you rarely punch people over," Brendon added. Shay rolled his eyes and started to walk away. Kiki and Brendon called him back, but he ignored him, as he had for the last eight months.

He would most likely spend the rest of the afternoon aimlessly walking around, and thinking up skemes and skimatics for plans and gadgets he had yet to make, only to wind up back in the tunnels in the night, drinking away his troubles. Then he would stumble his way back to his new ghetto, and fall into another miserable nightmare.

Just as he had for the last eight months...


	9. Coincidence

**Coincidence**

He didn't know why he went back, but he did. An empty mind and wandering feet had led him in the opposite direction of his uninviting ghetto with his very inviting alcohol, to a place he hadn't seen in eight months now. To a place he didn't _want _to see.

His old Ghetto loomed above him absently, haunting him endlessly.

_"But... but you are a man to love Seamus Harper," her hazel eyes shone clearly through the seas of red. "Have you only accept that-" He interrupted her before she could finish._

_"I will -never- be that man!" _

Shay shook the thoughts out of his head, and cautiously walked up to the door of the place he had used to begrudgingly call 'home'. It was as beat up as ever, if not more so. He moved slowly, looking this way and that as he crossed the room, his mind noticing every detail as he unconsciously looked for trip wires and traps that just weren't there. He climbed the stairs carefully to the second level, and looked around at the first of the three 'entrances' that he used to go through everyday. The walls had been demolished, leaving one long, empty room.

At the other side of the room, where the softened wood bed used to be, was the sullen lump of an Earther. _Tasha..?_ It seemed too good to be true, and he stumped as he crossed the room. Messy auburn hair, shorter than it used to be, half-hidden by a grimy blanket. He didn't know anyone who had that colour hair asides from the spirited girl he had driven away all that time ago…

"Tasha," it took him a moment to realize that tears had welled up at his eyes, and he wiped them away as the dirty lump shifted. It turned, murky hazel eyes poking out just above the blanket. "Tasha… what are you doing here..?"

"Tasha..?" The lump said in a very masculine voice; Seamus stopped short. _That's not her… but I was so sure. It was the only thing logical. What Earther in their right mind would sleep above ground? _"My name s'not Tasha… do I look like a girl?"

The boy pushed the grimy blanket off of his malnourished body, revealing yellow skin stretched thinly over a bare chest, a disfiguring scar wrapped over his shoulder. Seamus noticed the way he cradled his left arm, and guessed that he had been badly injured in the past.

"No," Shay responded. "But you remind me of a girl I used to know. She had the same hair and similar eyes."

"S'not hard to have brown hair," the boy shrugged, lifting his good arm to wipe sleep out of his eyes. "And the eyes aren't that special… hey, what are you doing here? No Earther in their right mind would be above ground for long."

_That's what I said…_

Seamus muttered out some unintelligent excuse as he started to turn around. It was along the lines of 'I thought it was going to rain', even though the acid clouds above showed no signs of a downpour. Before he could take another step though, the boy started speaking again.

"Stay awhile, it's been awhile since I've talked to someone…" the boy yawned, and Seamus heard him stand up. "'Sides… I might be able to help you find that girl you're looking for… what was her name again?"

Turning around again, Seamus found that the boy was taller than him. By almost a foot. His fast mind working on overdrive, he saw the slight limp in the boy's step as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It's not important… you should sit back down."

"I'm capable of staying up," the boy said defiantly. As if to prove his point, he took a staggering step forwards. Seamus wasn't convinced. "See..?" The boy huffed out, as if the action had taken most of his energy. "I'm fine."

"You should sit back down." Seamus said pointedly. The boy laughed, and slowly sunk back down to the floor. Looking hesitantly around the room, Seamus sat down as well. _Might as well find out if he knows anything useful… maybe I can finally get off this god forsaken rock._

"You look like the hero-type," the boy observed. That caught Shay's attention, and he looked at the boy crossly.

"What makes you say that?" He asked the boy. _… why am I thinking of him as a boy still?_ Indeed, the 'boy' looked to be older than Brendan, let alone himself.

"The data port," the 'boy' said with a tilt of his head. "Why have one if you weren't going to use it against the Ubers..? I want one, actually, but I doubt I'd ever be able to survive the surgery. When did you get yours?"

Seamus thought carefully, looking at the intense interest on the 'boy's' face. _I have to be careful not to say anything I'll regret later. _"I was a kid."

"A kid..?" the boy blinked, a mixture of wonderment and confusion showing on his face. "How did you afford it?"

"Ubers forced it into my neck." He answered automatically, trying not to think about it. He knew he had blacked out, but thankfully someone had knocked him unconscious before the surgery.

"Ah," the boy nodded, understanding. "Damned bastards… but lucky you."

_Lucky..?_ Seamus glared at him_. He acts as if I wanted this thing in my neck… I wish I'd never had it! That way I might have died years ago._

"You could say that I'm the hero type, too," the 'boy' carried on, ignoring the glare being shot at him. "But recently… with my arm and my leg, I haven't been doing much hero work."

"I'm not a hero," Seamus amended immediately.

"Maybe a revolutionist then..?" The 'boy' tried again.

"I'm not a revolutionist," he glared at the 'boy' again, and this time he got a reaction. The 'boy' cringed slightly. "I'm not a holy man. I'm no hero. And I'm _definitely _no messenger from the bloody Devine."

His eyes clouded over with red for a moment, and he clutched at his skull. Images of explosions filled his mind, with the echoed cry of dying Nietzcheans…. And Tasha, looking him in the eyes before she started to drag him away towards the allies.

"You okay?" the 'boy's' voice anchored him back to reality, and he looked up into familiar murky hazel eyes. Seamus just nodded, and tried to ignore the memories pushing behind his eyelids. "That's good… thought you might've blacked out or something."

"No," Shay shook his head. _And thank the Devine that I didn't…_

"… you said that you weren't a messenger from the Devine," the 'boy' reminded him. Seamus blinked slowly. "Why?"

"Someone called me that once," Seamus replied. "They were on the wrong side of an Uber's cage."

The 'boy's' face was suddenly filled with recognition. A recognition that made Seamus nervous. "This happened eight months ago, didn't it?" Seamus didn't answer, but felt the redness wanting to come back as panic swept his being. The 'boy' continued. "At a hidden slave camp, in a Nietzchean base that was blown up eight months ago, not to far away from here… right?"

"That's a coincidence," Seamus muttered, hoping against hope that his voice didn't give him away. The redness threatened to envelope his entire vision.

"And you saw a boy before you went there, didn't you?" He continued. Shay's world stopped for a moment, before his mind started to make all the connections. "And he asked you to look for someone… a girl named Erskine."

The 'boy's' leg and arm. _Broken. Probably from some sort of Nietzchean torture device… He should have died. _

"That girl you're looking for is my sister, Tasha, isn't it?"

_He's Kyle. _Seamus stared at him blankly. "Those slaved found you and helped you, didn't they?" Kyle nodded. "And they told you that I took Tasha?" Another nod. _… he must have found out, somehow, that I used to live here._

"What happened to my sister," Kyle asked gravely. "I've been looking for her for months now, but I haven't found hide nor tail of her."

"She was staying here with me for a week, and then she leaved." Kyle cursed at the response, and started muttering darkly under his breathe. Seamus felt guilty, somehow, for what had happened. "Look… I know you cared about your sister-"

"Don't be all apologetic to me!" Kyle snapped at him. "Do you realize what she had? Do you realized what might happen if a Nietzchean finds her? What might be happening how?" Seamus gave him another blank look. "Of course you bloody well don't… you're not the 'hero type'… ha, what a laugh."

"You don't seem too worried about Tasha," Shay noticed. Kyle barked out a coarse laugh. _… he doesn't care about her at all. So why the hell did he want me to save her?_

"It's what's around her bloody neck that I'm worried about," Kyle explained. "That Nietzchean base that you blew up? It was testing the combination of cybernetic technology and mudfoots to make brain washed weapons… and I stole all of their plans and put them in her necklace."

An image of Tasha, the first time he'd seen her, came to Seamus' mind… and her necklace, with three, disc-like beads woven into it. "You bastard."

"Bastard?" Kyle laughed again. "Me? What about you? You left me there to die in that alley!"

"You made every Uber on the planet want your sister's head." Seamus stood up and turned to leave, glaring at the boy as he did so. "It's people like you that make me hate this stupid planet… you're no better than the Nietzcheans."

"You would rather me leave the information with the Ubers so that they could infiltrate the tunnels and figure out everything..?" Kyle's voice asked as he was walking towards the door. "I'm sorry that I don't believe in the 'Great Harper' to help us all whenever we face annihilation!"

Seamus stopped at the door, but didn't turn around. "You don't have to fucking believe in me, but at least I would have fought them like a man instead of sinking to their level."

With that he left, a red curtain slowly dropping over his vision.


End file.
